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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27525142">From the Start</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mzfaucet/pseuds/mzfaucet'>mzfaucet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Beatles (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Tags to be added, mclennon and starrison if you squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 05:55:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27525142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mzfaucet/pseuds/mzfaucet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lennison, a story starting from the very beginning of The Beatles. </p><p>Timelines and events are slightly altered here and there. This is the first time posting anything and English is not my first language, so there may be mistakes ; This is also not beta'd. Warnings or tags may change in the future.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>George Harrison/John Lennon, George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>From the Start</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>They meet.</p>
</blockquote><p>John shivered as he walked through the cold streets. He could still hear Paul chattering excitedly next to him, something along the lines of <em>There’s this lad, he’s perfect.</em> John couldn’t remember the name he was given- James, probably? He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets, starting to walk a little faster.</p><p>The blurry outlines of a bus were starting to show, so he fished out his glasses and put them on. Paul was on top of the vehicle with his guitar, talking to someone who was presumably the one he was told about.</p><p>“John! Glad you made it, eh? We waited for ages, me an’ him.” Paul beamed at him, motioning at John to climb up the bus. He slung his guitar case on his back and hoisted himself up. The other person was much visible from this view, hunched down on their guitar and fiddling with a burnt cigarette. Then they looked up to John’s presence.</p><p>The first thing John noticed were two dark eyes. Large and deep to the point of where it was almost haunting, long lashes underlining them with slightly sunken eyeholes. He was thin and lanky, limbs tangled up under his guitar. A messy nest of hair, styled up poorly in imitation of Paul’s. A pair of fangs peeked out from his mouth, biting down lightly. He looked no more than fourteen, the sharp cheekbones failing to hide the pale pink dusting them.</p><p>A soft “<em>’ello.</em>” came from him, with a thick Liverpudlian accent.</p><p>John almost forgot how to talk until he managed to choke out, “James, aye?” Paul frowned to that and rubbed his face with his hands. “John, this is George, George Harrison. George, this is John. Remember, the one I told ya?” Ja-no, <em>George</em> nodded before flashing a shy grin to John.</p><p>Shaking his mind out of a haze, John pulled up his usual haughty demeanor.</p><p>“So, Paulie- <em>Paul’s eyes turned to him sharply</em> -‘ere told me that you play the guitar, mn?” George gave another slow nod and nudged his instrument. “Then let’s see what you got there, son.” Slender fingers grasped the neck of the guitar. John could see them shaking and fumbling to find the strings.</p><p>Then they started to dance. And he was good, just like Paul said. Good was an understatement- Paul raised his eyebrows as if to say <em>I told ya, didnt’t I?</em></p><p>George’s hands skated up and down gracefully. He looked different when he played. Brows furrowed in concentration, eyes flicking back and forth - eyes glinting with some kind of magic, the shy boy was nowhere to be seen. He had seemed to have lost himself in playing, jumping a little when Paul clapped down on his shoulders mid-song.</p><p>“So! Wha’d ya think, John?” he said. The beginnings of a compliment crept up John’s throat, but he swallowed them down. He was never the gentleman, right? He couldn't act soft, throwing sharp jokes in order to hide his weakness. He turned to the boy now looking up at him with a hopeful expression.</p><p>"How old are ya, son?"<br/>
"Jus' about to turn fifteen, birthday's 'round the corner."</p><p><em>Fifteen!</em> John shouted internally. He himself wasn't that old either, but fifteen! Really?</p><p>“A bit young, isn’t he?”</p><p>There, the glint was gone from George’s eyes. He creeped back behind Paul, clutching his guitar to his chest. Paul sighed loudly and glared at John. “I was asking about his playing, obviously. I think George's brilliant. He’s one of the best I’ve heard-he knows loads of chords, we really could use that!”</p><p>Next to him, George muttered a “Not tha’ much, Macca.”</p><p>John glared back. He stayed silent for a minute. George was clearly skilled, knowing many chords was surely to be beneficial for them too. He eventually gave in, grumbling out, “Fine. He’s in. But you’re takin’ care of him. I’m not a bloody babysitter, eh?”</p><p>Paul gave a small whoop and tousled George’s hair, messing it even more-<em>was that even possible?</em> George gave a blinding smile up to John. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I can do tha’ meself. “</p><p> </p><p>John almost smiled to that.</p>
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